A Peculiar Irony
by alittlebreathlessness
Summary: Angela Turner is eager to discuss her trip to the cinema as Sister Julienne joins Shelagh for tea. A short, dialogue-driven ficlet.
1. Chapter 1

The afternoon sun was fading slowly as two friends sat laughing and sighing over tea like they had for years. The familiarity of their positions – sitting across a table, sharing stories and hardships and smiles – was one of their fondest occupations.

"How nice for you that Timothy is willing to take Angela on an outing to the cinema. I should think he would be eager to see his friends now that he is on holiday." Sister Julienne's smile was warm as her eyes searched the Turner dining table for honey before adding some to her tea.

"Quite," Shelagh sighed happily. "It's been difficult for Angela while he's away at university. She's been writing to him every week. Well," she chuckled, "I've been writing to him based on her dictation. Her handwriting is as bad as her father's."

Sister Julienne laughed. She had sampled the little girl's penmanship several times through delightful drawings or thank-you notes. Though she was progressing, and she still sometimes transposed lowercase D for B, it was quite a chore to read her hurried little hand.

"Actually," Shelagh continued, offering another biscuit to her friend, "I think Timothy was just as excited to spend some time with her as she was him. He tries to hide it, but he's so terribly fond of her."

Sister Julienne watched as Shelagh's cheeks flushed in happy contentedness. She glanced at her watch. "Goodness, Shelagh, I've been here almost two hours. You must have so many things to do…" She began to rise from the table before being waved back to her seat by her hostess.

"Oh, come now, Sister, you know better than anyone that I do my best work in the early morning. All of my chores were done long before the children were even out of bed." A peaceful understanding passed over them. Many years had passed since they had worked together in the convent, and over time the awkwardness of discussing their shared past had all but disappeared. Shelagh's life still included her former sisters and vice versa; today's impromptu tea was a lovely chance to catch up on life at Nonnatus House.

"And anyway, you can't leave until they get back. I want you to see how Timothy's grown. Don't mention it – he's very sensitive – but I think he's added another four or five centimeters since you last saw him! He'll be as tall as Dr. Turner before the school year's out…" Her eyes moved to the clock on the piano and a fraction of a frown appeared on her face. "I thought they would be home by now."

Ten minutes later the two women were laughing at a story about one of the new midwives and polishing off their third cup of tea each. When the front door opened the sound of Angela's excited voice filled the hall.

"But don't you think it was the loveliest dress you ever saw, Tim? I do, I think it was the most, most, _most_ beautiful dress in the whole world! Mummy let me look at _her_ wedding dress once and it was so, so pretty but did you see how beautiful that one was, Tim? I'm going to wear one just like it when I get married. Did you – Oh! Sister Julienne!"

Angela Turner stopped in the living room doorway and released the hand of one favorite person to run and retrieve the hands of another. A tall shadow moved out of sight before he could be acknowledged. The nun remained seated – she knew children preferred adults to be eye-level – but her smile was infectious and full as she held the little girl's hands and swung them gently.

"Hello, Angela, how are you today?" Her voice was like velvet, always so welcome. Many times she had tried to hide her favoritism for the Turner girl, but it was something she had ultimately accepted.

Angela's eyes widened. "Oh I am so, so wonderful today, Sister! My brother's home, did you know?" She looked around. "Tim! Tim, Sister's here! Timothy?" She released Sister Julienne's hands and ran to the hall. The women at the table exchanged a humorous glance when they heard murmurings of the child scolding her brother for being rude, then watched as she tugged him through the doorway and stood next to him proudly.

"Here he is!"

"Well, hello, Timothy! Or do you prefer Tim now?" Sister Julienne now stood and set aside the napkin in her lap, grinning at this boy who was quickly becoming a man. Shelagh was right: he had grown. His shoulders were slumped in an attempt to hide his height, causing his long and shaggy hair to fall forward onto his forehead. His features were more pronounced and masculine than they had been last Summer. The eyes were the same, though: bright, intelligent, hiding a bit of cheeky dark humor.

"Either's fine, Sister." His voice was much deeper than she remembered. He extended a large hand and she took it, covering it fondly with her other.

Shelagh began stacking plates and cups on the ledge of the kitchen hatch. "How was your film? What did you see?"

"Oh Mummy, oh _Mummy!" _Angela's enthusiasm was visible as she rocked to her tiptoes and wrung her hands. "It was called The Sound of Music and I've never seen anything so lovely in my _whole_ life! It was absolutely wonderful! Even Tim liked it, didn't you, Tim?"

His grumble and shrug tried to show indifference, but Shelagh watched the crooked smirk appear on his face that she knew so well. Before Angela started again, he met his mother's eyes and smiled in full. "It really hit close to home," he muttered.

"I thought you would really, really like it, Sister, because there were _nuns_ in it! Some of them were not so nice but the one sang a song and she was lovely, just like you." The girl's hand slipped into the nun's. "But oh! Oh Mummy the girl was a nun too! She was a nun just like Sister Julienne and Sister 'Vangelina and she went to be the gov- the gov—"

"Governess," Timothy piped up.

"Yes, the gov'ness of all these children and she fell in love with the daddy and they got married! But then they had to run away because there were these really _awful _men who were chasing them! And they sang all these songs…"

The jumbled synopsis continued for a few more minutes as Sister Julienne nodded in feigned interest. She loved this little girl dearly, but at this moment she was acutely aware of Shelagh's sudden change in demeanor and the slowness of her gestures. She was carrying the tea things in the kitchen from the hatch to the sink, trying to act casual but failing. Timothy was watching her from the kitchen doorway with a bottle of Coke to his lips, gauging her movements as Angela prattled on about the nun falling so in love with the father that she had to leave the church to marry him.

"Oh, and Mummy, you should have _seen_ her wedding dress! It was almost as beautiful as yours! Almost. Can I see your dress again, Mummy, can I?"

Shelagh sighed from the kitchen, "_May_ I see…"

"Yes, _may _ I see your dress again, Mum, oh please?"

"Perhaps another time, Angela, we have a guest right now."

Angela turned back to Sister Julienne excitedly and took her other hand. "Have you seen Mummy's wedding dress, Sister? It's the most beautiful dress in the whole world! She keeps it in a pink box upstairs but I'll bet she'll show it to you if you really want to see it…"

Timothy shifted in the doorway, "'Course she's seen it, Ange, she was at Mum and Dad's wedding."

Angela's eyes were wide. "Were you really, Sister?"

"I was, and I remember that it was very beautiful. It was a wonderful day."

"Have _you_ ever been married, Sister Julienne?"

"Angela!" Shelagh's face burnt crimson from embarrassment. Her apologetic look toward Sister Julienne was accepted with a warm smile.

She leaned down to Angela's level, stroking the girl's knuckles with her thumbs. "No, my dear, I've not been married, not in the way that you mean. Though as we've discussed before, this ring," she raised her right hand, "is a symbol of my betrothal to God. It is His service to which I am tied for all my life, as a married woman is to her husband."

Angela looked at the ring and touched it gently. Her face was set in concentration, which the nun recognized from their extensive talks on "important matters," like Angela's favorite music or how the Noakes boy was teasing her again at playtime or her loneliness for her brother while he was away at school. Like her mother, she developed a tiny crease between her eyebrows and a little pout as her bottom lip stiffened. It was difficult not to laugh at such a serious look of concern on such a jovial face.

"Sister? Do you think it could ever really happen?" Her voice was very small.

She tried to match the child's somber tone of voice. "Do I think what could happen, Angela?"

"Do you think a nun could fall in love with someone who wasn't God? Like in the movie?"

The piercing sound of the Turners' teapot shattering on the kitchen tile freed Sister Julienne from answering. She rushed with Angela to the doorway where Timothy stood, all of them staring at Shelagh standing over large shards of porcelain lying in a puddle of tea. Her hands were still in front of her as if to hold the broken pot, her face ashen.

Without prompting Timothy placed his hands on his sister's shoulders and steered her from the room, muttering something about sharp objects and playing a game. Her protestations could be heard as they climbed the stairs together.

Sister Julienne remained silent while they picked up the remaining pieces of the teapot. She did not know what she could say to ease the tension in the room. Evidently Shelagh and Dr. Turner had not extensively discussed their premarital relationship with their daughter. She was hardly six years old, after all, and the complexity of the Turner history was enough to astound even the most worldly of adults. Angela's curious nature was bound to ask questions eventually, though, and the shock of the cinematic parallel to the Turner romance had obviously caught Shelagh off guard.

"I'll just get a towel to mop this up," Shelagh muttered as she dumped the remnants of the teapot into the rubbish bin. Her face showed only shock, though if it was a result of the crashing pot or her daughter's question, Sister Julienne did not know. She watched Shelagh's determined movements to wipe the floor clean and then back to the sink to wring out the towel. There was tension in the room that she read as an attempt for her friend to explain herself. Sister Julienne waited, as she usually did, for the bearer of the weight of pain to speak. She would listen; she would always listen.

Shelagh's head was bowed in front of the sink, one hand touching her face. She could not see her face, but Sister Julienne detected the shaking of her hunched shoulders as soon as it began. She crossed the room and placed a reassuring hand on Shelagh's trembling back.

"There, there, Shelagh, it's all right. I'm sure Angela was only being curious about…"

As Shelagh turned to face her, Sister Julienne raised her eyebrows in surprise. Her friend was not crying, as she had thought, but was stifling her laughter with the hand over her mouth. Shelagh's eyes were lit with humor, and the sound of her laughter echoed in a crescendo on the walls the small room. The laughter was just as her former sister always remembered it: a great throaty, booming laugh whose pitch lilted with each breath. It was a laugh that wrapped a listener and warmed hearts, unexpected from so slight a person, but simultaneously so quintessentially Shelagh that any other laugh would have been out of place.

She clutched the side of the sink and grasped Sister Julienne's arm to steady herself as she howled. "Oh, Sister!" she laughed with tears running down her face. "What – what are the chances – what are the chances that my daughter – _my daughter!_ – goes to see a movie where a nun – a _nun!_ – leaves the church to get married?"

Shelagh doubled over in gasps of laughter, clutching her stomach and gulping for air. When Sister Julienne was struck with the ridiculousness of the situation, she joined her friend heartily until they were both seated on the tile floor, wheezing from breathless laughter and pains in their sides.

When they had both calmed enough, Shelagh dabbed her eyes and passed the teatowel to Sister Julienne. There was only a moment of quiet before she threw her head back in laughter again.

Shelagh's eyes were clenched shut as she leaned into Sister Julienne's shoulder. "I can't wait to see Patrick's face when Angela tells him about that film!"

The two friends' eyes met instantly and the thought of Patrick Turner's shocked expression was enough to make them both writhe with glee on the floor for several minutes longer until they could hardly breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Raindrops 'n roses 'n whispers 'n kittens!"_

"It's 'whiskers on kittens,' Ange." Timothy called from the next room.

Angela did not seem phased by her brother's correction and continued to sing the same wrong lyrics until shouting the song's title. "_These are a few of my fav-O-rite things!"_

She was twirling on the kitchen floor. It was one of her beloved pastimes since her brother had told her that the secret of really good twirling was to remove one's shoes and spin in stocking feet. This evening she twirled with a slight change to her routine; instead of holding her arms out like a ballerina, she lifted them as though she were waltzing with an imaginary partner.

Shelagh had watched her play the scene from The Sound of Music three times already: a girl pretends to dance with no partner and then her brother steps in. Timothy had only given in to Angela's pleading invitation once, at a moment when Shelagh had left the room to fetch her slippers. When she came back, her eyes filled with happy tears upon seeing Timothy lifting Angela high above the floor and spinning her around the kitchen. When he saw Shelagh his ears flushed with embarrassment and he had set his sister gently on the floor, leaving her to twirl alone.

"Could you and Tim set the table, dearest? Dad's going to be home any minute and he'll be hungry." Shelagh lifted the roast from the oven and basted it again. Her muscles still ached from the hysteria she had shared with Sister Julienne an hour earlier. She'd asked her friend to stay for dinner, but she politely declined after saying she'd had too much excitement for one day already. Standing in the kitchen later, Shelagh occasionally chuckled to herself over the peculiar irony of what had happened that afternoon, twice needing to put down the knife she was using to cut the vegetables to stop her hand from shaking with her laughter.

Angela stood on her chair and received the table items that Timothy passed through the kitchen hatch. Normally Shelagh would have reprimanded her for this, but she wanted to make Tim's brief holiday at home as pleasant as possible and decided to ignore it tonight. It was when the girl placed her foot on the table itself that she started to protest but was interrupted when the front door opened and slammed closed.

"Hello! Are there any Turners in need of a doctor here?"

Angela leaped from the chair and ran to the hall. "Dad!"

Shelagh and Timothy smiled at each other in the kitchen when they heard Patrick's overdramatic grunt as he lifted Angela into his arms. "There's my best girl. Did you telephone for a doctor?"

"Daddy you always ask that question and I _always_ say no! I'm not allowed to use the telephone, remember?"

Angela's arms were wrapped around his neck when they walked into the kitchen. Patrick was mumbling a self-deprecating apology to her. "Hello, Mummy, hello Timmy," he sang as he pecked Shelagh's cheek and shot a wink toward Timothy. They all stood in momentary silence, realizing how rare it was for them all to be together in the same room nowadays.

"It's nice to be like this," Patrick spoke the words everyone was thinking. They each missed it desperately and in their own ways. Timothy's absence was greatly felt in the house, and this visit was cherished by all.

Not wanting to dwell on anything too sentimental for fear of shedding more tears, Shelagh turned to the stove. "Dinner's almost served, Turners. Please wash your hands and take a seat."

Angela planted a kiss on her father's cheek before sliding to the floor and rushing behind Timothy to the bathroom to wash up. Patrick walked to the kitchen sink, laying a cold hand on Shelagh's back. "How was your day, darling?"

Shelagh pressed her lips together to suppress too large a grin. "Oh it was lovely. Sister Julienne dropped by quite unexpectedly and we had a nice, long chat. Timothy and Angela went to the cinema. You'll have to ask her all about it; I've never seen her quite so animated." She worked very hard to keep a straight face, deciding to plant a silly kiss on Patrick's lips, then pulling back and kissing him again before turning to the table.

"What was that for?" His smile was surprised but flirtatious; he was usually the one who instigated the kissing in this room.

"Oh, nothing. I just felt the need to properly greet my husband, that's all."

She felt his hand on her lower back ease to her waist, then quickly release as Angela galloped back down the stairs and plopped into her chair. Patrick and Timothy followed suit and were joined by Shelagh after she placed the roast on the table.

"This looks wonderful, dear," Patrick said after Shelagh's prayer as he scooped potatoes and helped himself to the meat. He was eating before they all had their plates full.

Angela was trying to remain calm but her impatience got the best of her. "Daddy, guess what Tim and I did today."

"Oh, that's right, Mummy said you'd been to the cinema. How was it? What did you see?"

"The Sound of Music! Daddy it was so, so, so much fun."

Patrick tilted his head toward his daughter. "Only one 'so' is necessary, Angela, we've talked about this." Shelagh watched as Angela nodded dismissively. Patrick loved her animated little way of talking, but her enthusiasm for adverbs was trying at times and he gently tried to break her of the repetitive habit. They'd had a few small rows about it, Shelagh fervently defending Angela's gusto and usually able to talk Patrick onto her side. But tonight he was tired and forgot himself, correcting the girl by default.

Angela pressed on without a care. "Daddy, it was the best film in the whole world, it really was! There was dancing and singing and there was a wedding and nuns and everything!"

Patrick nodded, "Oh, that sounds very nice dear." His eyes locked on Shelagh's and she noticed him shift in his chair. She was frowning at him quizzically until Timothy spoke.

"Dad, stop! That's _my_ leg. Honestly, you two are intolerable." Tim's look of disgust as he tucked into his plate and avoided eye contact with his parents made Shelagh's cheeks flush. Clearly Patrick had been trying to find her leg under the table. She tried to quash the smile on her face at his misstep and stabbed at her own food.

Patrick cleared his throat uncomfortably then leaned on his elbow toward Angela to distract from the awkward moment. "Er, so, yes, this film was a musical, then?"

Angela nodded, ignoring Timothy's groan at hearing about it all again. "Mmm hmm. And there was this girl and she was a nun like Sister Julienne!"

Patrick's eyebrows shot up when he looked at Shelagh with a sly grin, "Well that's a bit different…"

"Yes and she sang all these really, really, really lovely songs and she wore the most beautiful dress…"

He shook his head in confusion and held up a hand to stop her, simultaneously heaping meat and potatoes onto his fork. "Wait, why was a nun wearing a beautiful dress? Or is this a different kind of order than the nuns of Nonnatus? Are these Fashionuns? Ha!" He chuckled at his own pathetic attempt at a joke and took the large bite into his mouth.

"Oh, no, Daddy, it's because the nun married the Captain! She was the gov'ness of his children and she fell in love with him and she left the church and they got married and – Dad, are you all right?"

The room was echoing with the loud hoarseness of Patrick's coughs as he choked on the mouthful of food. Fist beating on his own chest and face purpling, he darted his gaze from Timothy and Shelagh's faces and back again. His eyes were wide and tearing as he struggled to dislodge the food from his throat. Timothy slapped his back while Shelagh rushed to refill his water glass. By the time she returned to the table Patrick was breathing deeply, still rotating his eyes between his wife and son, as though they had planned this nonsensical dinnertime ambush.

Small coughs punctuated the silence for a few more minutes until Patrick was able to properly catch his breath. "So this film – this film was about a nun marrying a widower?" His eyes were on Shelagh but it was Angela who responded.

"Well she married the daddy," Angela said with a shrug, taking a bite of potato, "buh idunno war widder means…"

"Angela, don't talk with your mouth full, please." Shelagh's voice was serious but she was grinning naughtily at Patrick across the table. His eyes would not release hers and she detected the tiniest shake of his head while his crooked smile crinkled his features.

"Well." Patrick pointedly faced Angela, slowly dragging his gaze from Shelagh's. "This seems like a very interesting picture, Angie," he took a gulp of water. "Sounds like something I should take Mum to see."

* * *

Later that night , after Angela was slumbering peacefully and Timothy had gone out to meet some friends, Shelagh and Patrick laughed in bed about the events of the day almost as intensely as she had with Sister Julienne. She was laying half on his chest, Patrick's arms wrapped around her shoulders and his fingers occasionally tickling her.

"I'm sorry, Patrick, it was just too amusing to warn you about. I wanted to see your reaction." She let a loud chain of laughter escape before whispering, "And I wasn't disappointed!"

Patrick dug his fingers playfully into her sides, reveling in her laughter and ticklishness and feeling her squirm against him. "You were willing to let me sit there and suffocate on that roast beef! I ought to wring your little neck, Mrs. Turner!"

His hands slid up her spine and wrapped around her throat, thumbs stroking her skin as she balanced on his chest, looking him square in the face. He lifted his head from the pillow to close the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers and smiling as she let her full weight fall into him. His hands left her face and encircled her back again, catching under her cardigan and rolling them to their sides. Their kiss never broke, and her hands were making deft progress on the buttons of his shirt.

Patrick smiled against her lips. "We're going to be mercilessly teased, you know. Because of that movie." He lifted his chin as her mouth wandered to his jawline.

"Mmm," Shelagh was eagerly nibbling his neck.

Patrick chuckled lightly and held her closer. What a day. No one would ever truly understand the hilarity that had enveloped their house; it was too farcical to believe. He was glad they could all share it, and he made a promise to himself that he would take his wife to see that film before it left the theater. They could make a whole night of it if they were able to find a sitter for Angela. Though their daughter had told them the entire plot at least twice that evening, he smiled at the thought of watching Shelagh's face in the darkness and holding her hand as they giggled together at the little nun marrying the father of her charges. It would be even funnier if he could find Timothy's old sailor cap…

Suddenly a thought struck Patrick frozen and he sat bold upright, causing Shelagh to roll onto her back, her hand still trapped against his chest within his shirt.

"Bloody hell!" Patrick cried into the dark room. "Now I understand why Nurse Franklin keeps calling me Captain during the prenatal clinic!"


End file.
